


Servant Mine

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Uther Pendragon Dies (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: It’s an old tradition. Arthur’s not even sure who started it. It was in place long before Uther and, if Uther had his way, it would be in place long after Arthur. It was something that Arthur kind of…accepted as something that Camelot did. Though…as he thinks about it, that may not be the best basis for what to count as good or bad.
Relationships: Gwen & Morgana (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 398





	Servant Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to nonny on tumblr for the prompt! I'm sorry it took so long and I hope it's what you wanted, I had fun with it

**Prompt for you** \- An age old Traditional practice in Camelot states that whichever visiting lord wins a celebratory tournament on Uther’s birthday gets to take two servants as an offering of goodwill. Arthur puts a stop to it when Merlin is picked to be one of them.

* * *

It’s an old tradition. Arthur’s not even sure who started it. It was in place long before Uther and, if Uther had _his_ way, it would be in place long after Arthur. It was something that Arthur kind of…accepted as something that Camelot did. Though…as he thinks about it, that may not be the best basis for what to count as good or bad.

“Wait, what?”

Arthur sighs, setting the parchment down and looking up at Merlin. “Have you got ale in your ears?”

“Have I—what?”

“Well, considering how often you’re at the tavern.”

“Maybe if you’d just speak clearly I’d hear you just fine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I told you, _Mer_ lin, it’s tradition. Whenever a lord wins the tournament on the king’s birthday, they get to take two servants from Camelot as an offering of goodwill.”

“And what does Uther get if he wins?”

Arthur shrugs. “It’s his birthday.”

“You say that as if that makes it so Uther won’t demand something extra _just_ because it’s his birthday.”

“Fair point.” Arthur winces, stretching out the kink in his shoulder. “He wins the glory of making the visiting lord admit defeat and concede to his might, I suppose.”

Merlin makes a face that is _truly_ impressive, almost as impressive at how little he tries to hide it from Arthur despite knowing that Arthur is the prince and his father is the king.

“Well, at least we know they won’t win,” Merlin grumbles as he continues his chores.

“Why’s that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You saying my father is a magnificent warrior all of a sudden? You told me he couldn’t break a pot if someone dangled it on a rope in front of him.”

“First off, that was _you_ that said that—“

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Yes, it was!”

“No, it most certainly was _not.”_

“And _second,_ ” Merlin continues, raising his voice slightly, “it’s not as if _Uther_ has to win for the lord to lose.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “And who do you suppose is going to win if he doesn’t?”

“Well, you’re fighting, aren’t you?”

There’s a slight flutter of something in Arthur’s chest but he pushes it away. “Are you saying you’ve finally realized what a magnificent fighter I am?”

Merlin stutters, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. “N-no.”

Arthur’s grin widens. “Yes, you are, aren’t you? Well, good. It’s about time you realized how impressive I am.”

“You are _not_ that impressive.”

“No?” He tilts his head. “Then why’d you say that I was fighting?”

“You, um,” Merlin mutters, stumbling over his words, “ _happen_ to be better than a large majority of people.”

“So you think I’m good.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You just said I’m better than the majority of people.”

“The majority of people in Camelot have never swung a sword before,” Merlin points out, “that gives you an unfair advantage.”

“ _Unfair—“_

“Plus, you know the other knights will throw it if they go up against you,” Merlin continues gleefully, “Leon will, Lancelot will, Percival will…Gwaine might not…oh, but Gwaine could win.”

“Merlin!”

Although Arthur is loathed to admit it, when the day of the tournament finally rolls around, even Uther looks a little uneasy at the lord that walks inside. Arthur’s very glad he’s wearing his heavy cape and circlet. It gives him an excuse to shift under the guise of making himself more comfortable and not under the threat the lord’s heavy plate armor and solid stance gives him. Already he starts looking for anything that could be wrong; leaning too much weight on one side, slowness of step, even a slight tremor in his hand. But no, the lord moves as gracefully as a swan gliding through the water, nary a hitch in sight.

“Uther Pendragon,” the lord booms, grasping the king’s hand in an enthusiastic grip.

“Seibert.” Uther shakes his hand. “Good to see you again, old friend.”

“What, you think I’m going to miss your tournament?” Seibert grins. “Not on your life.”

“You may think you’ve still got something over me, but you won’t win.”

“That’s what you’ve told yourself for years, and it hasn’t worked yet!”

“On the contrary,” Uther laughs, “it’s worked several times.”

“Well, if that’s the attitude you have…” Seibert starts looking around the hall. His eyes land on Merlin and Arthur’s hackles rise. Then his gaze flits over to Gwen and he sees Morgana’s hand twitch. “I think I know which two servants will be coming with me in a week’s time.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, old man.”

“I don’t like him,” Merlin mutters as the two of them move off down the corridor. And as much as Arthur wants to correct him, say he’s suspicious for no reason, something is there, just under the surface, that stands the hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck on end.

“I don’t like him either.”

But Arthur’s hands are bound. He can’t do anything about it. Not that his father would listen.

Then he notices the three women that follow Seibert down the hall. He frowns.

Merlin follows his gaze. “Who’re they?”

“They’re…” Arthur squints again. “I know them.”

“So who are they?”

“They’re former servants of Camelot,” Arthur says finally, “that’s…that’s Holly…and Malwen…and Lillith.”

“You? Knowing servant names?”

“Morgana,” Arthur says by way of explanation, “they—they must’ve come with Seibert.”

“You never said he’d won _before._ ”

“Apparently,” Arthur mutters as they turn their attention back to Uther and Seibert, still laughing like old friends, “there is a lot my father doesn’t tell me.”

Uther might not tell him much, but Merlin tells him plenty.

Merlin comes back into their chambers that night, his brow furrowed like a lizard’s elbow. Arthur lets him get on with it until he stumbles around the edge of his desk and there’s no snarky comment. He sighs.

“Alright, out with it, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Merlin glances up at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been quiet all evening, now tell me.”

Merlin stares at him a moment longer, then looks away. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s bothering you, it’s not nothing.” Arthur waits as Merlin chews on his lip.

“It was Holly,” Merlin says finally, “I was helping her get Seibert’s chambers set up and she was limping.”

Arthur frowns. “And?”

“And I told her she could go to Gaius, that he’d help her out, and she…” Merlin twists his hands together. “She looked…confused.”

“Like she didn’t know where to go?”

“Like she didn’t understand why I told her to go to Gaius.”

“Well,” Arthur says, crossing his arms, “she’s been away from Camelot for a while, surely that might’ve been something she forgot. That Gaius is the Royal Physician.”

“No, she remembered who he was,” Merlin insists, folding the clothes almost angrily, “but she…she didn’t understand why I told her to _go_ to him.”

Well…Merlin’s right, that doesn’t make sense. If someone is injured they go to a physician. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“The other thing that was weird,” Merlin continues before Arthur can say anything, “is that she said she tripped on the stairs and _that’s_ why she was limping. Funny thing is, yesterday, someone managed to spill oil across the stairs from the kitchen to this floor, and it’s been blocked off.”

“So…she lied?”

Merlin shrugs. “Apparently.”

That’s certainly out of the ordinary. It’s not like Holly would’ve been in trouble for limping. Much less in trouble with _Merlin._ Arthur shakes his head, walking forward to clap Merlin on the shoulder.

“Look, it’s not like Camelot’s going to fall because one servant lies about how she got hurt, right? She’ll go to Gaius, he’ll fix her up, and we’ll be fine.”

Merlin sighs. “I know. I’m just worried.”

“You’re a soft one,” Arthur teases lightly, “it’s in your nature.”

Merlin shoves his shoulder.

“Anyways,” Arthur laughs, “I’ve got to get ready for a training session tomorrow. Since we learned about this Seibert fight we can’t afford to be down one of our best fighters.”

“Aside from Gwaine, of course?”

“If Gwaine’s alcohol tolerance counted as fighting skill, we could take the whole world,” Arthur says wryly.

Then it’s time for the feast. Arthur watches Merlin scurry off to join Gwen as he and Morgana take their places at the table. He catches sight of a quick conversation the two of them have and sees Malwen join them, polite smiles giving way to real warmth as Gwen takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

“They’re getting along quite well,” he hears. He turns, sees Morgana sit down next to him. “What do you think of them?”

  
“The servants?” Morgana nods. “I don’t know, I haven’t spoken to them yet. Although…”

He glances around to make sure no one’s watching them and whispers what Merlin’s told him. Morgana’s brow worries slightly as she takes it in.   
  
“Maybe she was embarrassed,” she murmurs, “didn’t want to tell anyone something happened?”

“I don’t know.”

Morgana glances over her shoulder and leans in closer. “Between you and me, and no one else, do you like Seibert?”

“I haven’t talked to him either,” Arthur says, but he knows by Morgana’s tone that’s not what she’s asking. Sure enough, the look she gives him makes him lower his voice to a whisper. “No, I don’t like him.”

“I don’t like him either.” Morgana risks another glance over her shoulder. There he is, coming in with Uther, both of them looking as proud as peacocks. “Well, at the very least, we know there are servants there who’re from Camelot.”

“Yes, I’m sure Gwen will have a lovely time.”

“As if I’d let him take Gwen.”

“You may not have a choice.”

Morgana gives him a look. “Would you let him take Merlin?”

Before Arthur can answer, Uther and Seibert arrive, Uther raising his glass in a magnificent toast and the feast beginning. Everything runs smoothly, Merlin standing behind Arthur’s chair, Gwen behind Morgana’s, until they join the mass of servants filling glasses around the hall.

  
Then there’s a sharp _crack_ of pottery as everyone’s head whips around to see Malwen with her hands clapped over her mouth, a jug of mead spilled all over Gwaine.

The hall falls silent.

Gwaine peels away his mead-soaked chainmail as Malwen gathers the broken pottery with shaking hands when Holly came up and whispers in her ear. Malwen looks up in disbelief before nodding. As she bends to continue picking up the rest of the pieces, Arthur notices her hands are no longer shaking.

“If you wanted to see me with my shirt off, sweetheart, you only had to ask.” Gwaine winks at Malwen as she mumbles another apology. He waves her off. “It’s alright, no harm done. Just fetch another and we’ll be set.”

“Of course, sire.”

She hurries away to grab another before making a swift exit, cradling one of her hands. Arthur’s about to turn away when Seibert makes what is quite possibly the lewdest joke he’s ever heard. Gwen freezes at his shoulder and even Gwaine looks slightly put out. Morgana’s mouth drops open and Uther stares at him in the uncomfortable silence. There’s an awkward pause until someone takes the goblet out of Seibert’s hand.

“Perhaps that is enough for one night, sire.”

“Feisty little flower.” The lord makes a grasp for the goblet but the hand lifts it and spins away. It’s handed to Gwaine who downs it gratefully.

“I think Merlin’s right, Seibert, you’ve had enough.” He catches Percival’s eye and winks. “And that’s me saying that.”

Just like that, the hall is back to ringing.

Merlin makes his way back to Arthur and mumbles something to Gwen. Gwen nods sharply and takes the jug from him.

“I’m going after her,” Merlin says to Arthur, “make sure she goes to Gaius.”

Arthur nods, understanding what Merlin’s _not_ saying.

That’s two of Seibert’s servants now.

And if Arthur watches the third one like a hawk for the rest of the night, well…he’s just doing it to make up for Merlin’s absence.

As it turns out, it wasn’t Lilith that Arthur needed to be watching. It was Gwen.

He finds her crying as she sweeps the throne room, and forces her to stop and sit with him for a minute after threatening to tell Morgana she was upset.

“It’s nothing, sire, I’m just being silly.”

“Gwen, I know you well enough to know that you’re never just being silly, you work too much for that.” Arthur rests his hand on her own. “Let me talk to Morgana, see about giving you a few days off. I swear, once this tournament is over everything will be better.”

“No!” Gwen grabs his arm. Her eyes widen as she releases him like she’s been burned. “I’m sorry, sire, I didn’t mean to.”

Arthur isn’t focused on her apology. He’s too busy looking at how she cradles her arm to her chest and recoiled from him as if…he’d raised his hand to strike her…

“Gwen, has someone threatened you? Because if they have, I swear they’ll be dealt with swiftly.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, no one’s threatened me.” Gwen’s voice is back under control. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Arthur opens his mouth to argue when a small knock comes from the door.

“Sorry to disturb you, but the Royal Physician wishes to speak with you, Gwen.”

“Of course, Sara, I’m on my way.” Gwen drops a curtsy to Arthur before walking over to Sara. “Shall we go now?”

“Of course.” She leads the way out of the hall, leaving Arthur with far more questions than answers.

Gwen comes back that afternoon. She seems happier, at least more at ease. Morgana corners him after Gwen left to see to the rest of her chores.

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s no use feigning ignorance, I know something happened to her,” Morgana growls, crossing her arms, “she’s been flighty all day, now what happened?”

“I told you ‘Gana, I don’t know she seemed different, especially…” He trails off but Morgana catches him.

“Especially _what?_ ”

“Especially when I found her crying in the throne room this morning,” Arthur confesses.

“ _What_?”

Arthur winces.

“Why was she crying? What did you do? Why didn’t she tell me anything?”

“Arthur? Morgana?”

“Oh, hello, Merlin.” Morgana drops into a chair as Merlin walks in. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to overhear, but I can promise you Gwen is alright.” Merlin gives Arthur a look that says they need to talk. Arthur nods. Merlin sets the tray down on the table. “Gaius has seen to her and Gwen assured her she was fine.”

“Gaius would do well to remember that Gwen is _my_ handmaiden,” Morgana says sweetly, “and that if he has any concerns regarding my handmaiden he should come to me.”

“Of course, my lady,” Merlin smiles as he leaves.

“You do realize that wasn’t necessary,” Arthur says as he leaves, “he’s hardly going to rat you out to Gaius, and even if he did, it’s not like anything would happen.”

“Not only do I have a reputation to maintain, dear brother, but it’s quite fun.” Morgana picks up the dagger he’d given her on her birthday and runs her fingers over the blade. “Merlin isn’t bothered by it and he’s are a relief after those awful haughty servants Vivian brought with her.” A smile crawls across her face. “Though I’m sure you enjoyed it.”

“Says the woman who batted her eyes at every knight that arrived from the tournament last month. And did the same with Seibert.”

“You know they fight better when you give them something to fight for,” Morgana says loftily, “and that most stupid enough to enter their lives in a game are quite subservient to the brain below the belt.” She snickers as Arthur makes a face.

“Don’t worry about Gwen,” he says instead, reaching across the table to take her hand in a squeeze, “she’s a strong woman. She’ll be alright.”

“I suppose you’re right. But if I find out who hurt Gwen — “

“I’ll tell Gaius not to bother patching them up.”

She raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think there’d be a body to find?”

The tournament is in two days.

Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur are in Morgana’s chambers, having dinner. A meek knock comes on the door.

“Come in,” Morgana calls.

Lilith opens the door, slightly hunched, and glances around quickly. “Forgive me, sire, my Lady, I was looking for Gaius.” She bows and turns to leave.

“If you want,” Merlin calls quickly, “you can tell me, or I can take you to Gaius now.”

“No, no, that’s alright, I can find him,” Lilith stutters, “it’s not that urgent — “

“I’ll be right back.”

Arthur doesn’t make a move to stop him. Merlin quickly walks over and gently steers Lilith out the door, closing it as they go. Morgana stares after them.

“That’s all three of them,” she murmurs, “isn’t it?”

Arthur nods, twisting the stem of the goblet back and forth between his fingers. “Something’s wrong.”

“Gwen,” Morgana asks gently, “do you know what’s going on?”

Gwen’s hands shake as she carefully pours another serving for the both of them. Morgana stands, taking the jug out of her hands and cupping them in hers.

“Gwen, you can talk to me,” she murmurs, “please.”

“We can’t let him win,” Gwen says simply, staring at their joined hands, “we can’t let him take any more of us.”

“Why not,” Morgana prompts carefully, “will you tell me?”

Gwen shakes her head firmly. “Not my place.”

Arthur reaches out to pat Gwen’s shoulder. She nods in thanks and vanishes out the door.

“I don’t like this,” Morgana declares, sitting back down, “and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

“So what’re you gonna do? Follow them?”

Morgana gets _that face_ in response.

“‘Gana, _no._ ”

“Bold of you to assume you can stop me from doing anything.”

With that, she sweeps out.

Arthur sighs. This tournament can’t be over fast enough.

The day before the tournament, Arthur finds Morgana in her chambers, face pale, and curled around a hot goblet.

“Morgana!” He rushes over. “What happened? Are you alright? Are your nightmares back?”

“No…” Her voice is firm but quiet. “Not my nightmares. Nothing happened to me.”

“Then what’s got you like this?”

She takes a deep breath and tells him.

* * *

The day after Merlin and Lilith left Morgana’s chambers, Morgana finds Lilith in the kitchens and asks her for a favor. Lilith does as she’s bid and accompanies Morgana back to her chambers. As they work, Seibert comes to see Morgana. They talk briefly, Seibert inquiring about Gwen’s health, Morgana about how he feels about the tournament tomorrow, and Seibert asks her to accompany him to the feast afterward. Morgana accepts if only to keep an eye on him, and Seibert leaves. After she finishes with Lilith, Morgana dismisses her and walks away, only to double back and follow Lilith from a distance.

Lilith walks quickly to Gaius.

Morgana follows, her heart in her throat.

Stopping just outside the door, Morgana leans against the wall and listens.

“And he came by?”

“Yes.”

“And he asked the Lady Morgana to the feast?”

“Yes.”

“And about Gwen?”

_Merlin. It’s Merlin and Gaius._

“We’ll fix it, I promise. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

_What?_

“What happened,” Morgana says, pushing the door open, ignoring the way Lilith startled terribly, “who hurt you?”

“Eavesdropping, Lady Morgana,” Gaius remarks dryly, “not your normal style, is it?” His tone is pleasant as if he’d asked about the weather.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin mutters to Lilith, “I didn’t think you’d be followed. But I think she can help, if you want.”

“Yes, of course I can help,” Morgana says instantly, “what do you need, how can I—?”

“That is not up to you,” Gaius says firmly, “but up to Lilith.

Morgana watches helplessly as Merlin beckons Lilith to sit on the chair by the fire. “Here, don’t you worry, no one here’s going to hurt you. Are they any better today?”

Lilith shakes her head and whispers something to Merlin. Merlin’s turned away so Morgana can’t see his face but she can see his shoulders tense.

“Alright.” Merlin lays a comforting hand on Lilith’s shoulder as Gaius turns to escort Morgana out.

_No._

It would’ve escalated had Merlin not spoken.

“Lilith, do you want Morgana to help?”

Morgana stops, waiting anxiously for Lilith to reply. Then Lilith nods, looking up slowly.

“M-my Lady?”

“Yes, Lilith, what can I do?”

“I…” She looks up at Merlin desperately.

“Why don’t you tell her what you told me,” Merlin suggests softly.

Lilith nods, worrying her lip. “I was…I have a sister. Mother and father died. Lord Seibert, he…he won me three years ago.”

Morgana nods. When Lilith doesn’t continue, she looks to Merlin for help.

“Seibert takes you away from your families,” he says quietly, still watching his hand stroke soothing patterns on Lilith’s shoulder, “because it’s _tradition._ And no one cares who suffers because of it.”

Morgana’s breath catches. “… _suffers_?”

Merlin glances down at Lilith before slowly easing the back of her dress open and sliding the cloth over her shoulders, leaving her back bare and facing the fire.

Morgana walks around and looks.

She gasps.

Lilith’s back is littered with burns and scars, the skin pulled tightly over the bones and the skin cracked and broken. In certain places, the burns are angry and peeling, covering slightly older ones.

Lilith winces as Gaius gently begins applying poultices and wrapping bandages around the harshly disfigured skin, murmuring words of encouragement as he works, finding him watching her closely.

“What—who did this?”

Merlin levels a stare at her. “You know.”

“What? No, I don’t know anyone who…” Morgana trails off.

_No._

“Was it Seibert?” she asks weakly.

“Yes.”

“And all the others, did—did things like this happen to them too?”

“Yes.”

Morgana takes a deep, slow breath. As she lets it out, the fiery worry in her belly cools to determined steel.

“We’re going to get rid of that tradition and see _all_ of you returned home.”

* * *

Arthur sits back, flabbergasted.

Morgana stares at him as if daring him to comment.

“So…” he starts, only to stop. He tries again, still nothing. “… _hell._ ”

“Quite,” Morgana nods sharply, taking a sip from her goblet.

“I—we—“ Arthur takes a breath— “how long has this been happening?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is there any way I can help?”

Stare. “You want to help?”

“It’s not right,” Arthur insists, “and it’s happening in my men under my watch. Of course I want to help.”

Morgana smirks and takes a drink. “Well, well, well, look at how you’ve changed. A while ago, you would’ve scoffed and dismissed the whole thing.”

Arthur wants to argue…it’s true.

“We have to get Uther to stop the tradition,” Morgana says firmly.

“How? You know he’s not going to take the word of a servant over the word of a lord, much less his close friend.”

“And what about our words?”

“It’s tradition,” Arthur insists, even as it makes him sick to his stomach, “and even if it wasn’t…you know Uther. He doesn’t care what happens to servants. Not enough to do something about it.”

Morgana’s mouth forms a hard line. Arthur can see how badly she wants to argue, how much she wants this to be anything other than it is. It isn’t.

“You’d better win tomorrow,” she says instead and downs the rest of her glass.

* * *

Seibert doesn’t win.

Something happens to his sword, it flies out of his hand at a crucial moment. Arthur has no idea what must’ve got wrong. Absolutely not a clue in the world.

Seibert leaves and Arthur watches the caravan exit the citadel. Merlin stands at his shoulder and he wraps an arm around him. On his other side, Morgana takes Gwen’s hands in hers and squeezes them tight. As the four of them stand there, he thinks of family. And home. And the safety of knowing that no one will ever hurt you again. He makes a promise.

When he’s king, the first thing he’ll do is get them home.

When Uther doesn’t make it to his next birthday, when Arthur passes the order, when Seibert returns thinking he can snatch up two more innocent people, the look on his face is reward enough. But it’s nowhere near the relief that passes over Holly’s face, Malwen’s face, Lilith’s face, when he tells them they get to come home.

It’s nowhere near the pride he sees on Merlin’s face, nor the comforting weight of Merlin’s body in his arms when he crushes his servant in a hug the instant their chamber doors close behind them.

_Never again._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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